In 1976 we moved to my mother’s hometown of Rupert House (Waskaganish), surrounded by family. The sense of community and belonging in a Cree community is very powerful. It is so powerful it can change a name. My mother’s family didn’t really like the name Paul John. “John Paul sounds so much better!”, it was said, so my mother agreed that I should be called John Paul. From that day on I was called John Paul regardless of what was written on my birth certificate. Even though it has made my name a source of confusion, it will always be a beautiful reminder of the power of community.

Growing up in Waskaganish spending summers on the Nottaway River learning from one of the greatest hunters, Jimmy Whiskeychan and his sons Bert, Joey, Bentley, Wilfred, and Sydney, who was my age, was the best childhood. With no drinking water, sewage system or access road, it is still hard to believe we were considered poor. I paddled the Pontax River a few years ago and after rounding the point in Rupert’s Bay and turned south, I was struck with a long forgotten memory of hunting snow geese on a small bay and having the privilege of having my blind beside the late Willie Jacob. It was such a powerful memory that when I reached Waskaganish I had to visit his wife Alice who had come to my rescue so many times when I was a boy.

Being a member of the Waskaganish Diamond family meant always learning from aunts and uncles dedicated to serving our people, like my aunt Annie Whiskeychan, who was dedicated to the preservation of the Cree language, or my uncles Billy and Albert, who helped create a Nation. As a child I would admire my uncles with no clue of their actual contributions to our Nation. I admired my uncle Stanley for his daredevil antics, my uncle George was the cool one like Arthur Fonzarelli on Happy Days, Billy Diamond and Albert Diamond had the best stories often leaving people in tears of laughter. My uncle Charlie was most like my grandfather as the tallyman with reverent knowledge of the land. I miss listening to conversations between my uncles, they would always use their full names. Billy, “Hey Albert Diamond, how is it going?” Albert, “It is going good, how about you Billy Diamond.”

I would leave Waskaganish at the age of 13. My mother dedicated her life to education and knew that if I was going to achieve my dream of becoming a lawyer, I would need to be challenged academically. I love going back to Waskaganish and seeing the faces of children I couldn’t possibly know but recognizing their grandparents, parents or other relatives in their faces. These are the people who named me John Paul.